


Eye for an eye (tooth for fuckin’ tooth)

by Dearly_Divided



Category: Far Cry 5
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bikers, Diners, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Gun Violence, Hold-Ups, Hurt/Comfort, If You Squint - Freeform, Maybe a bit of fluff, Mild Angst, Polyseed (Far Cry), Pre-Relationship, Protective Seeds, Revenge, Rook's a small town waitress, Sarcastic Rook, Soft Seeds, The Seeds are assholes, Threats of Violence, kind of, well sorta
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-01
Updated: 2019-12-01
Packaged: 2021-02-25 06:08:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21631372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dearly_Divided/pseuds/Dearly_Divided
Summary: And so it was; the Seeds came, they monopolised her time for a few hours and then they went off to do whatever nefarious, illegal activities they wanted to. That was her life, things didn’t change in a small town like theirs.Then one night, the pattern broke.
Relationships: Female Deputy | Judge/Jacob Seed, Female Deputy | Judge/John Seed, Female Deputy | Judge/Joseph Seed
Comments: 30
Kudos: 272





	Eye for an eye (tooth for fuckin’ tooth)

Rook was an hour and a half away from finishing her shift on a particularly shitty Wednesday afternoon when she heard the unmistakable rumble of approaching motorcycles.

“Of course,” she groaned, dropping her head into her hand as she leaned over the counter. “Of course they’re here.”

Seeing her miserable expression, Benny, the grill cook and one of her favourite people on the planet, chuckled. “Might not be them, Junebug. Lots’a folks ride bikes ‘round here.”

“It’s _always_ them. It’s like they have a god damned spidey sense that tingles whenever I’m having a bad day and they feel a need to show up here and make it worse.”

He laughed again, flipping burgers on the grill with practiced ease. “Aw, don’t be like that. I wouldn’t call ‘em harmless, but I don’t think making your day worse is their intention. In fact I think they’re kinda sweet on ya.”

Rook fixed him with a dead stare, but before she could open her mouth to shoot back a retort the front door of the diner swung open and like bad omens on a breeze in they strode, the bane of her existence, the Seeds.

Never before had she met a group of people so determined to ignore her blatant dislike in an attempt to win their way into her good graces. Lord fucking knew why.

The Seeds had been frequenting the diner for a hell of a lot longer than Rook had been working there. Sitting on the edge of town just off from the main highway, the diner saw all sorts pass through - the good, the bad and everything in between.

For the most part, Rook didn’t mind who showed up. What people chose to do in their own time was none of her business, so long as they were polite and didn’t give her too much of a hard time, she could tolerate just about anyone.

The Seeds were the exception to that.

It wasn’t that they were biker outlaws - they never put much effort into hiding that. The leather jackets, black boots, tattoos and barely concealed guns were kind of a dead give away. That, and their reputation preceded them; people knew not to fuck with the Seeds - there were horror stories whispered about those who hadn’t leaned that particular lesson quick enough. More than once they’d come in, blood still staining their knuckles and clothes, sat down and ordered, acting like nothing was amiss.

Behind their smiles they were dangerous beyond belief, that much was evident. Even the Sheriff and his Deputies seemed on edge when they walked in to get lunch on the go only to spot the Seeds sitting in their usual corner, the four of them smirking in a way that was a little too sharp and malicious to be taken as anything other than a thinly veiled _threat._

All of that, Rook could handle. She wasn’t thrilled that they likely spent their free time moving guns and drugs across the County, murdering and maiming those who stood between them and what they wanted freely and without opposition, but it wasn’t her job to police them - it was her job to serve them food.

And _that_ was Rook’s problem with the Seeds; they were assholes.

She had to admit, the first time they walked into the diner, she was a little starry eyed. Joseph came in first, tall and lean with dark hair that fell to his collar and blue eyes that seemed to stare right into her soul, and then he smiled and she’d felt a little weak. Jacob was next, built like an ox with fiery red hair and muscles that damn near bulged out of his jacket. Rook wasn’t sure what was more intimidating about Jacob Seed - the sheer size of him, or the switchblade he kept strapped to his thigh, occasionally pulling it out to toy with, throwing a wink her way just for good measure. Next came John, tattoos sprawling across his arms, hands and throat and a devilish smirk on his face. With hair slicked back (a few strands falling out of place, no doubt intentionally) and a neatly trimmed beard, he would have looked every inch the ladies man, if not for the leather jacket and ripped jeans. Their sister Faith came in last of all - a pretty young thing in a white dress with a preening smile and a bell like laugh, she looked harmless enough, but Rook didn’t believe that for a second.

“What I would give for just one night alone with those boys,” Beth, her fellow server had said, whistling lowly, and for lack of anything better to do, Rook had laughed along with her.

She’d expected them to be rude, but they were never anything less than polite - on the surface at least. John was charming to a fault and Jacob flirted in that blunt way of his, Faith giggled prettily and Joseph spoke gently, thanking her for her service, his hand lingering just a fraction of a second too long when he paid the bill.

It was a little painful, but she’d take it any day over the customers who made gross comments or those who treated her like dirt beneath their shoes. But then they started coming in more often, staying for longer. As good as the food was, Rook knew damn well that it wasn’t what that made them linger for hours at a time, always managing to settle themselves in her section.

They drove her crazy with their incessant desire to fuck with her, the more comfortable they got, the bolder their actions became. Oh, they never crossed a line, Benny and Mike the owner didn’t tolerate that shit from anyone, not even them, but christ they came close, and it was only the reminder that this job paid her bills and that she needed it to keep a roof over her head that kept her from pouring a cup of hot coffee into their laps every time they tested her patience.

Which was most days, if she were being entirely honest with herself.

And yet, the more irritated she became, the more they seemed to get a kick out of it. In all fairness, they were the only customers she was allowed to drop the happy, customer service persona she relied on to get tips. Mike couldn’t give a shit so long as they didn’t cause any trouble and they kept coming back, and no matter how bad of a mood Rook seemed to be in, they always tipped generously.

“Junebug, you ever considered the possibility that maybe they like you?” Benny asked, that ever present lopsided grin wide across his face.

Rook scoffed, pointedly ignoring them as they walked to their usual booth, Jacob calling out a greeting as they passed. “Oh yeah, it’s real romantic stuff. Say Benny, how did you go about wooing that stunning wife of yours? Was it by making her super uncomfortable at her place of employment and literally never leaving her alone?”

He laughed, shaking his head, “Nope, didn’t have to woo her - one taste of my cooking and she was sold.”

She only just refrained from rolling her eyes. Benny and his wife were so adorably in love it was almost sickening. _Almost._ “Exactly my point. They’re just trying to get their kicks in because they know I can’t slap them like I want to without getting fired,” she retorted with a mischievous smile, allowing herself just a moment to imagine what it would be like to give into her impulses and just let loose.

“Rook, my dear, when you’re ready,” John’s voice called out across the diner and like that, her smile was gone, replaced with a dark scowl. Benny just snorted in delight, mumbling something about pigtails and playgrounds under his breath as he shooed her away so she could attend to her impatient customers.

And so it was; the Seeds came, they monopolised her time for a few hours and then they went off to do whatever nefarious, illegal activities they wanted to. That was her life, things didn’t change in a small town like theirs.

Then one night, the pattern broke.

She sat in the corner booth, a thick woollen blanket the female Deputy, Hudson had passed her after she’d asked her a few questions wrapped around her shoulders. The ambulances had left a while ago, but they wouldn’t let her leave. She drowned out the noise of the techs working around the scene, documenting the bloodstains on the floor, the bullet casings, looking for evidence, who the fuck really knew what they were doing.

As tears streamed silently down her face, she tried to focus her attention on her breathing, because if she let her thoughts drift she’d remember the stunned, agonised look on Benny’s face as he lay in a pool of his own blood - blood that was still on her hands, clutching at his stomach, trying to stem the flow.

She should have stopped it, if she’d just done what he’d asked, if she’d complied…

Her fault. All of this was _her fault_.

The door to the diner slammed open and Rook hated herself for flinching at the sound. She didn’t look up, just kept staring at her skirt, the pretty pale blue now flecked with red. Hopefully it would come out in the wash, this was her _good_ uniform.

She ignored the raised voices, the thundering footsteps across the tiled floor, clutching tighter at the blanket they’d given her.

“You can’t-”

“You gonna stop us, peaches?”

She swallowed, fighting back a sob that threatened to choke her as the three of them surrounded her, Joseph dropping to his knees at her side. “Rook…”

Joseph was always gentle, especially with her, but the way he spoke - it was like he expected her to fracture at the slightest sound.

And maybe he was right. Even as the tears silently slipped down her cheek, Rook felt so close to shattering - all she wanted was for them all to leave so she could go home and break down in peace. “Will you look at me, please?” he asked, his fingers gently coaxing her chin upwards.

And she let him, because what was the point in fighting. Teary eyed, bruised and bloodied, Rook met his gaze. She ignored the sharp hiss from John and the low growl from Jacob, focused entirely on Joseph’s eyes, flickering across her face in concern.

“What happened?”

“I tried to be brave,” she said, and as the words slipped from her lips, the very tenuous cord that was holding her together snapped. Rook hated to cry in front of anyone, least of all them, but in that moment it didn’t matter - she collapsed against Joseph’s shoulder as a sob ripped its way free. She didn’t fight it when his arms snaked around her, pulling her closer and simultaneously shifting her so that he could sit down at the booth beside her.

For once, Rook didn’t care that they irritated the ever loving fuck out of her. She didn’t care that Joseph and his brothers were undoubtedly dangerous outlaws. All she cared about was burrowing herself into an embrace that felt safe and Joseph, Joseph felt safe.

She felt his lips press against the crown of her head, his hands cradling her so gently. “I’m sorry, Rook. I’m so sorry, we should have...” but he trailed off, the words hanging heavy in the air. Should have… what?

Should have been there?

Should have stopped it?

Should have _protected_ her?

That wasn’t their burden to bear.

“Tell me what happened, Rook.”

“I just- I just want to go home,” she sniffled.

There was a short pause before he spoke again, “Of course. John can take you home, he’ll make sure that you’re safe.”

He was already sliding out of the booth before his words had even sunken in, standing up and offering Rook an arm to help her up. It was at that point that Deputy Pratt, who up until then had been watching the scene from the outskirts, piped up.

“The fuck he will,” he said, striding over. “We still need to get her statement, and no offense, but forgive me if I don’t trust your outlaw brother-,” his hazel eyes darted to John, roving over him just once before scoffing, “- with her care. Rook can come back to the station with me and Joey and when we’re done, Joey can drive her home.”

The very thought of having to go through it again made her stomach turn, and almost instinctively her hands tightened around Joseph’s. But it wasn’t Joseph who answered him, it was John.

“Answer me something, Deputy Pratt; are you fucking blind?”

He scowled, folding his arms over his chest. “You wanna try that again, Seed?”

“John,” Joseph murmured quietly, but his brother paid him no heed.

“I asked if you were blind. I assumed not considering the way you strutted in here looking down on us all from that very high horse of yours, but I wanted to be _absolutely_ positive, because if you aren’t blind, then surely you can see that our darling Rook is not only injured and covered in what I can only hope is somebody else’s blood, but also scared and in shock.”

Pratt opened his mouth to retort, but John cut him off with a dismissive wave, “Let me be clear. I understand that you’re just trying to do your job for _once_ , but Rook isn’t going anywhere with you unless she wants to.” He paused for a moment, his gaze shifting from the Deputy to Rook, still trembling in his brother's arms. He sighed, his eyes softening - gone was the smirk, the charming and flirtatious airs he usually armed himself with. When John looked at her, his expression was surprisingly gentle. “We’re taking her home, and _we_ will make sure that she is safe, and tomorrow, _if_ she feels up to it, she can answer any and all of your questions.”

His tone brooked no argument, though Pratt clearly didn’t look happy about it. He sighed, turning his attention to Rook, “I’m sorry, okay? I’m not trying to be an asshole here, I know you’ve had a rough night. If you want to go with them, fine, but say the word and I’ll get someone else to drive you home. Hell, I’ll do it myself. You don’t have to go with them if you don’t want to.”

Did she want to? She’d spent more time than she’d care to admit dreading the sounds of their bikes and counting down the minutes until they’d finally finish up and leave when they did arrive. John was a charming asshole, Jacob unnerved the hell out of her and Joseph, well Joseph was his own kind of torture, always kind and polite, as if that would somehow make her forget the time she’d seen him beat a man with his bare fists in cold blood behind the diner.

And Faith, she’d only seen their elusive little sister a few times, but she was hard to forget - sweeter than sugar with a grin that was just a little too sharp.

How many hours had she spent slung over the pass, complaining to Benny, dawdling just a second too long to avoid having to take their food over? She’d begged the other girls to switch sections with her, done her utmost to change her schedule to avoid them, but no matter what she did, there they were, insistent on making her life difficult.

And yet, how many times had they stepped in when some asshole was harassing her?

For all the lingering glances at attempts at flattery, both subtle and not, they’d never once crossed that line. Rook still remembered the day some random creep had slapped her ass as she’d walked by - she’d spun round, intent on smacking him in the face with her pot of hot coffee only to find him nearly in tears, whimpering like a kicked puppy, Jacob’s hand wrapped around his fingers, yanking them back to an unnatural angle. God only knew how he’d moved so fast.

“Apologise to her,” he’d growled, grinning wolfishly, though his eyes were ice cold and merciless as he watched the man thrash beneath him, desperately trying to free himself. “Right now.”

She’d never understood their fascination with her. There were other waitresses, nicer and far more attractive. Hell, she was pretty sure that some of the girls would gladly take her place, more than once she’d walked into conversations she’d rather forget - debates about who’d be better in bed, who was kinkier, how big they were, whether they’d be up for a threesome, or god forbid, even a foursome.

Rook had wondered if maybe she was just a challenge to them - a ‘find the girl who wants nothing to do with you and charm the pants off her’ kind of a deal. On the particularly _difficult_ days, the days when they pushed her right to the edge, she wondered if whether it wasn’t even that deep and maybe it was all just a bit of stress relief - the big bad bikers flirting with the small town waitress just to see her squirm.

But as she stood there, Joseph’s fingers still entwined with hers, his brothers on either side and John still staring at her with those wide, worried eyes, it didn’t feel like that.

She’d spent nearly three years bemoaning their very presence in her life, and yet at that moment the thought of them walking away and leaving her in that diner filled her with cold dread that almost made her shake.

“No, I- it’s okay. I’ll go with him,” she murmured. “I want to go with John.”

She pretended like the almost surprised smile that lit John’s face didn’t set butterflies alight in her stomach.

“Thank you for all your assistance, Deputy Pratt,” Joseph said, but the words were edged with something sharp and the pleasant smile on his face didn’t reach his eyes, “but we’ll be off now.”

As Rook was carefully manoeuvred between the three of them, Staci swallowed uncomfortably, unable to shake the feeling that somehow, he’d failed.

“Rook,” he called as she reached the shattered glass door. She paused, glancing back over her shoulder, John’s arm still slung around her waist. “For what it’s worth, Benny’s gonna be just fine.”

They both knew that was little more than wishful thinking, but Rook was tired and hurt and all she wanted to do was curl up into a ball and forget this night had ever happened, so she nodded and allowed herself to be guided out of the diner.

“Did you drive today?” Jacob asked as they stepped into the cool night air. Distantly, Rook remembered that she’d worn her jacket in that morning, and that it was still no doubt hanging off a hook in the back of their tiny staff room, but she wasn’t going back for it now, not when it meant crossing over the blood and broken glass that littered the tile floors. 

She shook her head, “No - the bus.”

The left corner of his lips quirked up into a half smirk, “So you get a choice then, honey. Who d’ya wanna ride with?” And it was stupid, ridiculous really, but she half expected his eyebrows to waggle suggestively - it wouldn’t be the first time he’d made some heavy handed innuendo purely for the pleasure of seeing her blush.

But he only winked, causing Joseph to sigh wearily, “Jacob, enough. She’ll ride with John as I said.”

Without thinking, she found herself nodding. Truth be told, she didn’t even care anymore, she just wanted the warmth and comfort of her bed.

His hand resting on her hip, John nudged her slightly drawing her focus back to him. “You ever ridden a bike before, my dear?”

Wordlessly, she shook her head.

He smiled, looking a touch more like his normal self, “All you have to do is hold on tight, think you can manage that, darling?”

The words slipped in one ear and out through the other, but she nodded anyway. Apparently satisfied with that, John began to steer her towards his Harley, a big black beast of a machine - one he clearly adored.

“Her name’s affirmation,” he’d told her once, only for her to raise an eyebrow and snort in a very unladylike manner.

“Didn’t realise you were one of those guys who liked to name their rides,” she’d replied, which, to her delight, had wiped the smirk off his face pretty quickly.

She watched as John slipped from her side, swung a leg over the motorbike and settled into the leather seat, turning around and glancing back at her expectantly.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. He’ll take good care of you,” Jacob murmured in her ear. She jolted at the unexpected sound, wrapping her arms loosely around herself as the cool night breeze picked up.

Joseph, ever observant, frowned. “You’re cold,” he stated, and before she could even open her mouth to reply, he was shucking off his leather jacket and holding it out to her.

She didn’t move, her gaze shifting from the jacket in his outstretched arm, back to him - he looked strangely naked without the leather, the thin grey tee he’d worn underneath fluttering in the wind. She’d known he had tattoos, not as many as John maybe, but she’d seen them peeking out from his under his sleeves and collar more than once. She just hadn’t realised how many he had, splashes of colour and black inked words curling up his forearms.

“Rook,” he said gently, coaxing her back to the present. “Take it. It’ll only get colder on the road.”

After a beat, she reached out and snatched it, quickly shoving her arms through the sleeves and shrugging it on. It smelled like him, a comforting blend of citrus, something woody and maybe just a hint of his cologne… It was warm too, and if she had the energy she might have hated herself for the way she reluctantly snuggled into it.

Joseph was watching her, half a smile playing across his lips as if he could tell _exactly_ what she was thinking. 

“Go with John, he’ll get you home safe,” he said, nodding at the bike that John obligingly kickstarted. “Oh, and Rook... I’ll be back for that jacket,” he said, his bottom lip catching between his teeth as he smirked.

Despite all she’d been through that night, the way he looked at her, a glimmer of something heated and _wanting_ in his eyes made her heart skip a beat and something warm flutter inside her. But as his words sunk in she found herself frowning, a little crinkle appearing between her brows, “You’re not…” she trailed off, unwilling to say the words, to admit that vulnerability.

It didn’t matter, Joseph understood all the same, “No, Jacob and I…” he shared a look with his older brother, who nodded ever so slightly, and when his eyes returned to Rook, there was something chilling burning in those blue depths. “We’ve got some business with an old friend in the Sheriff’s department.”

She almost opened her mouth to ask a question, but one look towards Jacob and a subtle shake of his head and the words died in her throat, a shiver that had nothing to do with the temperature running down her spine. “Don’t you worry ‘bout a thing, honey,” he said, shifting closer and brushing the back of his knuckles briefly against her cheek. “We’ll take care of it. Go home and rest.”

Oh.

She could ask as many questions as she liked, but she could tell from the guarded expression on the eldest Seed’s face that they weren’t going to answer any more of them. She was tired, her face ached and the thought of a long, steaming shower too tempting so she nodded, slipping onto the bike behind John, scooching closer and wrapping her arms gingerly around him.

He didn’t say a word, and she was thankful for that as she let her head fall against his back, squeezing her eyes shut in preparation.

“Look after her, John,” Joseph said, and it was the last thing Rook heard before the bike took off, the loud revving of the engine drowning out everything else.

She clung tightly to him the entire way, not once opening her eyes. He spoke once or twice, but his words were lost to the wind whistling past her ears and the pounding of her heart. It felt like it lasted a lifetime, but it was only probably fifteen minutes later when John pulled up to a stop in front of her tiny little house. He hopped off first, offering her his arms so she shakily clamber off.

“Wasn’t so bad, was it?” he asked, snickering when she shot him a half-hearted glare.

He kept a steadying hand on her back as he guided her up the garden path. It was only when she went digging in her pockets for her keys that it occurred to her that he’d never asked for directions, he knew exactly where he was going - maybe it should have bothered her, but she was too tired to care.

She felt the burning weight of his gaze as she slotted the key in the door and turned it, popping the door open.

“May I come inside, darling?” he purred, that all too familiar smirk playing on the edges of his lips. A little part of her wondered whether he was doing it intentionally - she was used to that John, it was something familiar, something she could cling to when everything else just felt _wrong_.

Or maybe he was just unable to help himself, the shameless flirt.

She should tell him to take a hike, but she didn’t have the energy to do even that, so she just sighed. “Knock yourself out, I’m having a shower,” she muttered, stepping inside, and true to her word, she left him wandering around her living room as she made for her bathroom.

Forty minutes later she emerged, the blood scrubbed from her skin, her hair damp and smelling of vanilla and rose, dressed in her comfiest pair of pyjamas. She found John in her kitchen, clearly in the midst of making… _something_. He glanced up at her approach, his eyes running over her from top to bottom, his lips twitching in amusement as he took in her choice of attire, though to his credit he didn’t say a word, simply gesturing for her to take a seat.

He followed a moment later, two mugs in hand, one he set down on the coffee table, the other he offered to her.

“It’s not poisoned, I promise,” he joked.

She accepted the steaming mug with as much of a smile as she could manage, hugging her comforter close as John settled into the loveseat beside her.

“Joseph didn’t say that you’d be making yourself at home,” she mumbled, but it lacked any of the bite she usually reserved for him and his brothers.

John just smirked, raising the cup to his lips and taking a sip, “He told me to make sure that you were safe and that’s what I’m doing, my dear. Do you want me to go?”

Would it make a difference if she said yes?

“No.”

He made a pleased sound, though the mirth on his face dimmed somewhat as he studied her. Under the warm glow of her living room lights, tucked up under blankets her injuries seemed more stark. She felt the weight of his gaze as it lingered on her bruised cheek, the nasty cut on her lip, watched as his eyes hardened and the muscles in his jaw twitched.

“Tell me what happened tonight, Rook.”

Her attention shifted to the drink in her hands. It was warm, bordering on hot and it smelled chocolatey and sweet. Before tonight, the very idea of John Seed in her kitchen making her hot cocoa would have been too bizarre to entertain, but tonight was hardly a normal night. Avoiding his piercing stare she brought the mug to her lips, blowing delicately to cool it a touch before she took a sip.

Her eyes widened, it was rich, spiced and sweet, which wasn’t nearly as surprising as the strong (but not unwelcome) kick of bourbon she knew for a fact she didn’t own. “Jesus Christ, how much alcohol did you pour in this thing?” she asked with a snort.

But John didn’t smile, barely reacted at all. “Rook, ignoring it won’t make it go away. Talk to me, please. Let me help you.”

Somehow she doubted that his intentions were that pure, but he wasn’t going anywhere and he wasn’t going to let this go. Maybe it would be easier just to confess - give in and let it go.

She sighed, setting her mug down on the coffee table and curling up in on herself. “He came in just after the dinner rush, sat himself down in my section. He was a little odd, seemed jumpy, a bit paranoid maybe, but he smiled at me when I took his order and he barely said a peep the whole time he was there. I figured he was harmless,” she said, shaking her head at her own foolishness. “He stayed for hours, waiting I guess, ‘til everyone was gone. He came up to pay and he reached into his jacket. I-I thought he was getting his wallet, but he pulled out a gun and started _screaming_ -” she cut herself off, licking her lips and swallowing unsteadily.

If she closed her eyes she could still see it - the twisted snarl on his face, the glint of the fluorescent lights on the black metal of the gun, the way his hand shook as he demanded that she empty the register. There was fear, who wouldn’t be scared staring down the muzzle of a gun, but there was something else that fought back against that fear, some part of her that was tired of being scared and walked all over and demanded that she stand her ground.

Her idiocy apparently knew no bounds.

She half expected John to interrupt her, demand that she keep talking, get to the point quicker, but he didn’t. He just reached over and placed his hand on her knee, rubbing his thumb back and forth - a silent gesture of reassurance, of comfort. “I said no, and he backhanded me with the pistol…” The hand on her knee tightened. “That’s when Benny came over.”

She should have given him the money, nobody would have blamed her for that. She didn’t know why she fought back against it, much less where that foolhardy sense of misplaced bravery had come from, only that the thought of shrinking before him and doing what he asked felt like the final straw.

“I think maybe I didn’t think he’d actually shoot, or maybe I just didn't care, I don’t know. Benny tried to calm him down, he told me to open the till but it got stuck and-” she cut herself off as tears threatened to choke her once more.

It was her fault, all of it.

John sighed, “And he shot Benny when you wouldn’t give him the money?”

She shook her head, biting back a sob, “No, he tried to shoot _me_ but Benny got in the way and took the bullet himself.”

For the second time that night, a Seed swept her into his arms and let her cry against his shoulder. If Benny died tonight, she’d never be able to forgive herself.

She didn’t know how long she spent cuddled up with John, quietly sobbing as his lips pressed soft, gentle kisses against her head, her shoulder, every inch of her that he could reach. She must have fallen asleep at some point, because when she next came to she was tucked up under a pile of blankets in her bed, Joseph’s jacket hanging off the doorknob, her slippers lined up neatly at the foot of the bed.

It was still dark outside and a quick glance at the old alarm clock sitting on her bedside table told her it was a little after three in the morning. Despite the early hour she could hear hushed voices drifting from her living room, which might have disturbed her more if they weren’t so recognisable. Sliding from between the sheets she opened her closet and pulled out her fluffiest robe, donning it and her slippers and quietly tiptoeing from her room.

She crept down her hallway, trying to stay silent, clinging to the wall and peering around the corner into the living room. The sight of Jacob Seed sprawled across her couch, his boots resting on her coffee table would normally have incited rage, but she was strangely calm as her eyes swept across the room, finding John leaning against her kitchen counter, Joseph standing in front of him.

They were talking to each other, the words too soft for her to catch without leaning in closer, but she watched a flicker of irritation pass over John’s face, heard him huff as Joseph spoke.

Her gaze shifted back to Jacob, only half paying attention to the conversation his brothers were having. He seemed far more interested in the switchblade in his hands, the blade open and glinting under the lights, still stained with glistening red.

“Rook, I’m sorry angel, did we disturb you?” Joseph’s voice called out and like a child caught with its hand in the cookie jar, her heart leapt into her throat and her eyes went wide.

Never mind that this was _her_ house, and she could go anywhere she liked whenever she liked, or that they were the ones who were somewhere they shouldn’t be.

But neither Joseph nor John seemed perturbed to have been caught, and Jacob only winked when she met his gaze. “It’s fine, honey. If you’re up, might as well come on in.”

She swallowed uneasily as she made her way into the living room, suddenly feeling a little self conscious of her pyjamas and blue polka dot bathrobe combination.

“Did you,” she began, licking her lips and clearing her throat quietly before continuing. “Did you talk with your… _friend_?” she asked.

From his spot on the couch, Jacob snorted, casually wiping the blood from his switchblade over his dark jeans, “Oh, Nancy came through alright.”

She wrapped her arms loosely around herself, nodding at his words, though she really didn’t understand what they meant. “So… what-”

Joseph exhaled lowly, drawing her attention. “It’s taken care of, Rook.”

Her heart seized, her fingers tightening around her arms, “You found him?” she asked, her eyes shifting between the three of them, searching for any trace of deception.

“We found him,” Jacob confirmed.

“H-he’s-”

It was Joseph who answered her. “Taken care of,” he repeated, his voice hard and cold, though his eyes were gentle as they regarded her. “That’s all you need to know.”

She knew that they hadn’t delivered him to the Deputies, that he wasn’t currently sitting in a cell, pondering his mistakes while the man he shot was fighting for his life in a hospital not 20 miles away. That wasn’t the kind of justice men like Joseph Seed delivered.

It should have horrified her, that they could sit so calmly in her home after delivering god only knew what kind of punishment and retribution to a petty thief, but it didn’t.

As she stood there, overwhelmed by the rush of warring emotions that flooded her body, Joseph watched her calmly. He didn’t speak, didn’t move as she drew in a ragged breath. She took a shaky step towards him, followed by another, and he didn’t move a muscle. Nobody breathed, all eyes fixed on her. As she stumbled closer she caught sight of his shirt - torn and flecked with blood, his knuckles - bruised and scraped, the red claw marks that marred his throat.

It hadn’t been a clean fight.

Trembling, she closed the distance between them and threw herself against him, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill as he pulled her closer, holding her tight and cradling her to his chest.

“Thank you,” she murmured, snaking her arms around his waist.

She felt him gasp in sweet relief, his lips brush against her crown of her head, “We protect what’s ours, little one. I’m sorry we weren’t there to stop it.”

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed this dumpster fire of a fic, if you did, please leave some kudos and/or comments 😊


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